On My Own
by Sammysmissingshoe
Summary: Sam's at Stanford. He's not hunting anymore, he has a girlfriend, everything should be fine. But when the bodies start showing up, the hunter in him just won't let him ignore it. Maybe he should have realised a lot sooner that it was a trap. Kidnapped, hurt, and tortured Sam. Flock to me, my fellow whump lovers.
1. Forget About the Life I Used to Know

**AN:** Hey everybody. Sorry for the wait, but I made my school's musical so I've got a heck of a lot less free time now. But, I am enjoying myself immensely. Okay- so- I can't call myself a true Hurt!Sam fan until I've done a fic with clowns. Yup, this is happening, people. Don't want to give away too much yet, so for now, just enjoy! Story and chapter titles are from a Three Days Grace song, On My Own.

* * *

Sam was happy, dammit! He had friends, a girlfriend, and a possibility of the normal life he'd been praying for since he was six. He was free to wake up with a hangover rather than a concussion from being thrown into a wall. Free to study law rather than the life of a deceased serial killer. Free to just live life, rather than constantly fear that he could lose it.

He was finally just- free.

Well, that was before the bodies started to show up. Broken, tortured, _mutilated_ bodies. Even for someone as accustomed to corpses as Sam, it was still horrific enough to make his gut clench.

 _"No."_ He would still mentally insist. _"I'm never going back to that. Someone else will take care of it."_

That was three weeks ago. Either other hunters weren't seeing it, or they just didn't care.

Maybe just a little investigating wouldn't hurt. Yeah, investigating, no actual hunting, just the research. He could let himself do that much, right?

Trying to gather all the facts as a student had been noticeably more difficult than when he pretended to be a journalist or something of the like. But he was done with that life, done with the lies.

Sneaking into a crime scene past curfew wasn't the same as lying right? That was how Sam justified it anyway.

 _"Not hunting, just researching, not hunting, just researching."_ He muttered inwardly as he peered into the room of the most recent victim.

 _"Oh, hell, what am I doing here?"_ He scolded in his head, but he didn't stop examining the scene. _"Stop saying 'scene.' This was somebody's home."_ His mind was at war with itself, just a battle of pure contradiction.

Pushing his mental war aside for a moment, Sam moved his attention to the window, and what he saw made him jump away as though the substance itself could do him harm.

Sulfur.

Okay, this was way too far past his comfort zone. He could barely stand his own sparring with Dean. There was no way in hell itself that he could ever take on a demon alone.

But, dammit, where was another hunter when he needed one?

Well... There were always two he knew of. Sam shook his head, washing to thought away. He knew what would happen should he contact Dean or his father. He'd get a lecture about he shouldn't have left them in the first place, and then receive no help whatsoever.

Maybe there was nothing he could do to bring someone's attention to this case, but sitting idly by while people died made him just as guilty as the demon. At least that's how he was raised to feel about the matter.

Just as he was about to move away from the sulfur, he noticed something had been etched into the yellow dust. Seriously, how did people always miss this stuff?

Upon closer inspection, Sam knew how much of a mistake it was to have come here. Because there, written in the sulfur, was his name. Not even his real one, but the one so often used against him.

 _Sammy._

Stumbling backwards in fear, Sam was set to run back to his own dorm, but instead, he ran smack into something.

 _Someone._

The black eyes glistened in the moonlight, solidifying that it was indeed a demon. But that wasn't what scared Sam the most. No, not the unmistakable eyes of a demon, but the human it was possessing.

It was wearing a _clown._

"So the rumours are true." The thing announced happily. "Sammy's got a little Coulrophobia, doesn't he?"

He'd left this life, this wasn't fair! "St-stay the hell away from me!" Sam worked up the courage to stutter as he tried to scramble away.

The demon raised its gloved hands in mock innocence. "Whatever you want, buddy." It flicked a finger, sending Sam tumbling into the furthest back wall.

Hitting back first, Sam crumpled to the floor. He brought himself to his hands and knees with a groan, only to be thrown aside again, left shoulder smacking first, and denting the plaster this time.

"I'm surprised at you, Sammy." The demon remarked casually as it flicked him to the opposite wall. "Thought you were supposed to be the one with a heart in your family." This time, it hurled him into the ceiling, but with a lot more force this time. Sam didn't even try to move again when he finally landed again. "But I had to kill _waaaay_ more people than I originally planned."

With a huff and a cough due to the settling dust, Sam lifted his head. "W-why?"

"To get your attention, of course!" The makeup widened red lips pulled apart in a far too eager smile. "Heard some pretty fun stuff about you, wanted to see it for myself." The smile faded as the demon cocked its head, yellow, curled wig bouncing at the motion. "I gotta say, I'm a little disappointed as of right now though."

"Wh-" Sam panted. "What do you want with me?"

"Why, to figure out what makes you so special! This is strictly off the record, you understand. They'd have my head downstairs if they found out I laid a hand on you, so keep this just between us, okay?"

Screw that. Digging into the back of his mind for the exorcism he'd never forgotten, Sam started spewing it out in a desperate attempt to end this before it got any further.

Twitching at the ritual, the demon scowled. "Rude." The demon made a half fist, stopping the air in Sam's throat, and in turn, the exorcism. "And I thought we were having such a nice talk, Sammy."

Gasping for the air he couldn't have, Sam's mouth moved, Adam's apple convulsing in a panic for oxygen. Gradually, he felt himself pulled up by the invisible force around his neck until he was hovering in mid-air. He knew his eyes were wide in fear because Oh, God... he was gonna die.

Being flung into the wall one last time and finally passing out was the greatest of mercies.

* * *

Waking up to the sound of chains clinking together was definitely not Sam's idea of a good time. He was a Winchester, being kidnapped and tied up was nothing new to him, but being chained to the ceiling high enough that his bare toes only barely scraped the ground? Yeah, that was a twist on the normal crap that ruined his life.

Giving the chains a yank for a test, he felt the cool metal tug his wrists, and that was when he realised that he was shirtless. He was briefly grateful for the fact that his pants had been left on, but considering the overall situation he was in, his modesty was probably the least at stake.

Clowns had always made Sam uneasy, but that wasn't too outrageous was it? Well, it wouldn't have been for a normal kid, but looking back on all the things Sam had encountered even then, maybe it should have been irrational. He had a feeling that this experience may end up reigniting his fears.

Honestly, up until he'd run into it, he thought he had outgrown the terror, but the sight had shaken him to his core, making him feel like nothing more than a child unable to sleep in the midst of a thunderstorm. And damn the thing for doing that. Sam was strong, he should be able to handle this!

But truthfully, he wasn't entirely sure he could.

When he huffed in frustration upon realising that the chains were sturdy, he noticed something else. He was gagged. A cloth, a bandana he guessed, had been wrapped and tied tightly behind his head, stretching his mouth obscenely wide, almost to the point of it being painful. Looks like an exorcism was out of the question now.

With a creak, the door across from his current position swung open, the demonic clown standing beneath its frame. The teeth beneath the painted smile gleamed in the poorly lit room. "Morning, Sammy!"

 _"Stop calling me that."_ Sam growled mentally, but only a snarl escaped the gag.

Sauntering up to him, the demon gave the chains a harsh yank, just for show. It briefly ran a gloved hand through Sam's hair before he jerked his head away. "Comfy?" It asked with a false sweetness.

Unable to do much else, Sam just shot it a bithcface.

"Stubborn. I like that. Won't last, but I like it. Name's Raef by the way. No one special, just your average, curious demon. Now," It grabbed Sam's face, the fabric clad fingers digging painfully into his cheeks. "I've heard the stories about you." Raef's tone lost its touch of humour, and he only tightened his grip as Sam tried to squirm away. "Show me what makes you so special."

What? What the hell was it talking about? Sam felt his head cock slightly and eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Don't play stupid with me!" It shouted furiously, spit landing on Sam's frightened and bewildered face. "Show me a miracle, boy. Just make me not want to hurt you."

Oh, God, it was _insane!_ Tugging on the chains, Sam allowed himself to panic and cry out muffled words of protest, shaking his head frantically.

Raef sighed. "Fine. I gave you your chance." And then it left.

Sagging down in relief, Sam exhaled. _"Why the hell does it think I'm special? What does 'special' mean to a demon?"_

His thoughts were interrupted when Raef returned, this time pushing a cart, and humming.

Sam swallowed, mouth going dry, and face draining of colour at the sight of what was on it. Whips, knives, chains, needles, scalpels, the list went on.

Once more, Sam thrashed in his chains to free himself, but the result was the same. He was well and truly trapped.

Raef's fingers brushed over his toys, mind buzzing as he tried to figure out which one to use first. When he traced a finger along the firm handle of the whip, he knew how to start off this whole shebang.

Sam's eyes followed the demon as it slipped behind him. He snapped them shut when the whip cracked against the floor.

Without a doubt, Sam knew his fear was never going away after this.

"Remember, Sammy," Raef cooed, giving the whip another test against the cemented floor. "I'll stop as soon as you show me a miracle. How much pain it takes to get you there is entirely up to you."

"You're crazy!" Sam tried to shout, but it came out as nothing but muffled nonsense. He was so screwed.

There was a brief chuckle behind him, and then Sam felt the impact of the whip on his back.

At some point in their lives, everyone's been snapped with a rubber band. They all know the fleeting numbness, then the inevitable sting that follows. If snapped hard enough, the skin will redden and rise up, sensitive to even the lightest of touches.

Being whipped was about one-thousand times worse.

Sam wasn't even sure that Raef had broken the skin, but he felt the skin and nerves ignite, worsening as he was helpless to stop his back from arching. He was unable to make a single sound, whether it was due to the shock, or the knowledge that if he didn't choke down the sound that he would scream in agony, plea, try to bargain away this misery, but he was raised never to beg, never show how much the bad guys were hurting you.

But oh, _GOD_ was it hurting him.

'I miss you, Dean.' Or, 'I wonder how Dean and John are doing.' Were not uncommon thought for Sam. But the one he thought right then was not one he had often.

 _"Dean... I need you."_

* * *

 **AN:** Anyone know where Raef's name comes from? I swear, it's not even creative. First one to get it right gets a little shout-out next chapter. Everyone who reviews always gets personal message from me anyway, but I'll slip in a hint to review any chance I can. Luckily, I know where I'm headed with this story, and I'm almost done with the next chapter, so y'all know what that means.

 **Sneak Peek:** "'Good boy. Now,' He pulled out a knife, relishing in the mortified gleam in Sam's eyes. 'Hold still.'"

Hopefully I won't take forever to update, but I have only one day to myself every week, so I will do my best to get the next one up ASAP! See y'all soon!


	2. Forget About the One I Left at Home

**AN:** Y'all gave me way too much creative credit, and you're gonna kick yourselves when you realize how stupid his name actually was. What's "Raef" backwards, guys? Yeah, it's that uncreative. And just so you know, I take no pleasure in updating so late. Seriously, this new schedule, whilst full of stuff I love doing, it's time consuming and exhausting. But, I love all of y'all and will not ever leave something unfinished, even if it means more sparse updates. Hope you enjoy this next chapter!

* * *

Sam had thought he knew the rules of torture. The bad guy takes their time, relishes between each cut, making sure you feel the pain.

This demon didn't need that reassurance. It was fast with its torture, not bothering to make sure that Sam was feeling each and every new technique. The miserable and wretched cries that slipped past the gag told their story just the way the thing had intended.

In between blows, there wasn't even enough time to pant. He could only scream.

The whipping was by far one of the worst pains Sam had ever felt, and heaven knows he's been through a lot beforehand. And it didn't stop with the pain. No, he had to suffer through the all too slow trickling of blood down his back, unable to force away the agonizingly taunting sensation. The soreness of his mouth being stretched too wide by the gag. The unrelenting coolness of the shackles encircling his wrists. There was so, so much more, and dwelling on those small pains only intensified them.

After what felt like, and may have been hours, Raef gave a huff, and then left. Sam's aching body collapsed as far as it could in the chains, heavy and pained exhales finally allowed to slip past the gag.

Whatever the hell Raef wanted from him, Sam was more than willing to give it to him. He was willing to give information he didn't have, swear to perform tasks he knew he couldn't, _anything_ so long as it just stopped the pain.

Above all the agonies, small or not, he was thirsty. Hungry. And he needed to pee. Sam could only hope this- _thing_ had enough decency to not completely ruin whatever was left of his dignity. If he wanted to keep Sam alive, which Sam assumed it did, it would have to feed him at some point.

Just as the thought entered his mind, Raef did the same back into the room, and he was holding- Oh thank God.

 _Water._

Sam felt himself jerk in his chains towards it, wanting nothing more than to feel the soothing liquid drip down his throat. Not to mention that once the gag was gone, he could knock the demon out long enough to complete an exorcism.

Turned out Raef had also considered that very possibility.

Grabbing a handful of Sam's hair, Raef gently tipped Sam's head back until his neck was straining at the uncomfortable angle. Sam saw the bottle of water right in front of his face, so damn close, and then Raef tipped it, and began to pour the water straight into the gag.

All in all, it was more like water-boarding than actually drinking. With his mouth held open the way it was, Sam had no choice but to continue to swallow the water in hopes of not drowning himself.

After what seemed like forever, Raef took away the bottle and released Sam's hair.

Sam's head shot forward and backward from the force of his seemingly endless coughing fit. The now sopping wet bandana continued to drip water down the back of his throat, a maddening and unpredictable agony to his psyche. It was a cruel, cruel way to keep him alive.

"Now that that's taken care of," Raef announced happily. 'We can get back to the fun stuff."

Sam had stopped trying to stare down or even look at Raef a long time ago. The plastered smile spread on that pasty white face was no longer a sight Sam was able to bare. He trembled every time he caught a glimpse of the rainbow coloured outfit, spattered red with his blood. He'd even whimper in fear at the sound of Raef's laughter. He just wanted _out._

Kneeling to the floor, Raef shot Sam a warning glare. "Kick me or try anything, and you'll regret it, boy." Raef began reaching for Sam's foot.

Oh hell no! So eager for his shot at freedom, Sam swung his leg. But- he was too excited, too sloppy, and just too damn hopeful. Raef easily caught the attempt Sam had made as offense, and with a growl of anger, he shot a hand out to press down on Sam's pinkie-toe with enough pressure that there was a snap.

This was far from Sam's first time breaking a bone. Hell, this wasn't even the worst pain he'd ever felt. But he was just so damn terrified! Terrified enough to hope he hadn't pissed off Raef to the point of killing him. Terrified enough to think he'd never make it out. Terrified enough to scream.

It was more of a shriek to be honest, but from behind the dampened fabric forcibly stuffed inside his mouth, it was hard to hear anyway. Sam tensed and yanked himself up in the chains, the manacles opening his already rubbed raw wrists. His back arched helplessly, splitting open the lashes from the whip. The tormenting trickle of blood ran down his back and made him jerk his head back and forth like a mental patient receiving shock treatment.

A current of pain dashed up his leg, causing him to shake and quiver. Even as his body's physical reaction were slowed to a halt, the pants and choked off sobs continued.

Raef's face was expressionless, other than the hints of menace and possibly enjoyment in his eyes. "Do you regret trying to kick me now, Sammy?"

Demeaning as it was, Sam nodded frantically, tears beginning to blur his vision.

Smiling, Raef praised, "Good boy. Now," He pulled out a knife relishing in the mortified gleam in Sam's eyes. "Hold still." Lightly, he let the tip of the blade dance over Sam's bare foot, applying the slightest bit of pressure on the broken toe, chuckling as Sam tried to choke down his pained moan.

And then Raef plunged the knife under the nail.

The sound that emitted from Sam's throat rivaled those known only by dwellers of Hell itself. An unabated cry of pure agony echoing throughout the dimly and lit and appropriately cold room.

Raising his voice to be heard over the pathetic cry, Raef calmly reminded Sam, "You know how to make me stop. Where's my miracle, Sammy? Just show me what makes you so special."

Nearly unconscious from the pain, Sam simply whined behind the gag, trying once more to rely the fact that he had no idea what Raef was talking about.

"Pity." Raef remarked almost regretfully as he yanked the blade free, earning him another whimper from Sam. "I thought- I'd _hoped_ you would've learned by now, but I suppose I'll just have to turn up the heat now, won't I?"

Even in spite of all the agony, Sam prayed that 'turn up the heat' wasn't based a pun off of the fact that Raef was about to burn him or something. It was to his dismay, for several reasons, when Raef pulled out a smoking and white hot poker.

Great. Now not only was he about to be in even more pain, but now he was being assaulted with dull and cliché bad guy humour. He hated his life so much sometimes.

With an ironic gentleness, Raef laid down the poker on one of the many whip lashes on Sam's back.

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Sam arched his back and tensed up in pain one final time, and finally passed out.

* * *

His cheek hurt. Sam groaned. He just wanted to keep his eyes shut, maybe never open them again.

The pain his cheek flared up again, and there was a lot more force behind the blow this time. Sam remained still.

What felt like gloved hands grabbed his chin in a painful, vice-like grip. "Come back to me, Sammy."

Dean? Was Dean there? He must've been, because he's the only one that gets to call him 'Sammy.' But Sam was hurting, and he knew he's not supposed to hurt when Dean's around. So, maybe he really wasn't there after all.

"Open your eyes now!"

Dad? That could be him, right? The voice was yelling, and John sure as hell liked to yell. Then again, he wouldn't yell at Sam if he was in pain, only if he wanted a normal like. Looks like his father wasn't there either.

Bad guys sometimes call him 'Sammy.' They like to yell a lot too. If it's a bad guy, then they had better watch out. Dean usually kicked the bad guy's ass when they hurt him. His _Sammy._

Sam hated being 'Sammy' ever since his voice started squeaking, marking the beginning of adolescence. He'd always protest when Dean called him that, but it was clear that he'd never stop, but Sam would still continue to ask Dean to knock it off, already knowing it was pointless.

But other people stopped when he asked. Maybe if he told this person to stop then they would.

"'S-S'm.'" Why was his voice muffled?

"What?!"

Something was yanked out of Sam's mouth, but his jaw dumbly hung open, head drooping along with it. "M-my name's 'Sam.'" He mumbled.

"Fake all you want, it ain't gonna work. I know you're just playing dumb, kid."

Sam's not dumb! Or a kid! He meant to tell the guy off, but all he managed to say was, "N-not..."

"'Not' what, you little bitch?! Answer me!"

The gloved fingers dug more harshly into his cheeks. Sam was pretty sure that only Dean was allowed to call him 'bitch' too, but the discomfort brought on by the pressure on his face overpowered his clarity.

"I'm growing tired of your games, Sammy. We both know you're gonna break soon."

Break? Break what? Dad gets mad when Sam breaks stuff. He's broken lots of his bones before. Did he break one again? Felt like he broke one again...

An elbow was driven into Sam's jaw, snapping his head back physically, and mentally. He remembered where he was, he remembered why he hurt, and he remembered that Dean wasn't coming this time.

"Back with me now?"

Sam longed for the bliss of forgetting everything, forgetting the pain, the loneliness, the _fear._ He trembled.

Satisfied with Sam's reaction, Raef smiled. "I'll take that as a yes. You had enough yet?"

Nearly sobbing as he quivered, Sam insisted. "I-I have no idea what you're talking about." He swallowed, his pride coming right along with it. "Please." He whispered.

Disappointment remained on Raef's face. "That's not what I want to hear, Sammy." Before Sam could protest again, Raef dug his fingers into a slash mark on Sam's back, the wounds reopening for about the dozenth time, and Sam was well beyond the point of screaming. "Bet this hurts, doesn't it?"

No kidding, asshat. Sam's whimpered, lip bleeding from how intensely he was biting it.

"You probably wanna make me suffer, make me pay, make me _stop._ "

God yes. Sam's moan was accompanied by a retch-inducing squelch as Raef's fingers sunk further into the almost undoubtedly infected wound.

For a moment, Sam thought of Jess, and the possibility that he may never see her again, and it hurt almost as badly as the fingers probing near his spine.

Almost.

When a single digit wriggled its way almost to the knuckle, Sam couldn't help but shriek. "Pl-please!" Why couldn't he have been made stronger?

With a huff, Raef ripped his hand free. "You're no fun as a begging mess." Raef huffed again. "But, I also don't wanna watch you piss yourself. The smell would be something awful." Raef reached for the chains.

Unprepared for the release, Sam landed on his feet for a whole 0.01 seconds before his broken toe protested, and he crashed down on his face, far too weak to catch himself. Raef wrenched his head up by his hair, pulling him up until their noses almost touched.

"Move." Raef commanded.

Teeth grit together and pained tears flooding his eyes, Sam made it to his knees.

Apparently, that wasn't good enough for Raef, and he ended up just dragging Sam to the door, throwing his head into it as well, simply because he could.

The door opened, and Raef kicked Sam until he was mostly inside the too small bathroom. "You have five minutes." And then he slammed the door shut.

There was no mirror to break and use the shards as make-shift daggers, no cabinet door to be pried off and used to knock Raef out. There was nothing but a few feet of bare tile, a toilet, and a sink.

Had Sam possessed a cross, he could've purified the water and given Raef one hell of a swirly, but he had nothing.

Nothing- except his blood. It was still flowing down his back in what felt like torrents, so surprisingly, Raef's constant torture would be what saved him.

Sam tensed, bracing himself for the pain, and then dragged a finger across his back.

His head shot back, and it took everything Sam had not to make a sound. If Raef thought he was up to something, he'd burst in, and Sam would be done for.

Panting, Sam began to draw.

Just as Sam was beginning to finish up, Raef pounded on the door. "Ten seconds to come out on your own, or I help."

He was so close! He started adding the finishing touches.

"Ten."

A few more swipes.

"Nine."

Crap, was the wound drying out?

"Four."

What?! Dammit, that was cheating.

"Three."

In a panic, Sam shoved his fingers in deeply, coaxing more blood out.

"Two."

Almost there!

"One."

The door swung open, and Raef lunged forward a whole two steps before he hit an invisible barrier. His now black eyes shot down to the Devil's trap he was now stuck in. "No." He breathed.

Despite the agony, Sam smiled. He began reciting the exorcism.

"Don't do this!" It shouted desperately.

Swaying slightly from the blood loss, Sam kept going.

"I-I can protect you out there!"

Sam didn't stop.

Raef started twitching in panic, voice stuttering as the exorcism drew closer to its end. "I-I'm not alone! Th-there are others!"

As much as the idea horrified Sam, he pressed forward, able to only pray that Raef was lying.

Right before the exorcism was finished, Raef uttered three words that sent a chill down Sam's spine.

"I-I'll be back." And with that, black smoke shot out of the clown's mouth, and sunk to the floor, back to the flames where Sam hoped it would burn forever.

Sometimes demons picked living hosts, Sam knew that much, and he watched the body at his feet for a few seconds, searching for any sign of life, but he saw none.

He had to get out of there, he couldn't be found near a body in a devil's trap, that'd get him locked up for sure.

Then again, considering how he could hardly walk, maybe there really wasn't much of a choice.

Finding the long coveted exit of that godforsaken place, Sam stumbled outside, and the fresh air had never felt so good. A few feet ahead, Sam spied a payphone, but as he stepped forwards, his adrenaline finally wore off, and he fell to the ground.

 _"C-C'mon. Move, dammit."_ He began to crawl.

By the time he reached the phone, his vision was blurring, and as though the universe was attempting to offer some kind of apology, there was just enough change left on the phone for one call. Thank God for the selfless. When Sam finished putting in the change, he knew he only had the energy for three numbers.

911.

" _911, what is your emergency?"_

" _I'm dying."_ Sam thought, but instead, he just mumbled. "D-Dean..." And then he passed out once more.

* * *

 **AN:** Edited in a hurry, so sorry for any mistakes, but I did not want to make y'all wait any longer for this chapter, so, I'll try to edit when I have more time later. And guess what your patience gets you!

 **Sneak Peek:** "He tried fighting already. He tried fighting some damn demon, he tried accessing some damn powers he didn't have, and he tried living a damn normal life, and this was what he gets?"

Hope to be a little better on future updates, and drop a review if you're enjoying! See y'all soon!


	3. So Now I'm Standing Here Alone

**AN:** I planned on making this a little longer, but a cute little chapter ending snuck in and I decided to give you guys an update. Hope y'all don't mind ;) Also, just for clarification, Sam's memories are in italics. So are his thoughts, but hopefully it'll be clear which is which.

* * *

Flashes of light nearly blinded Sam even through his closed eyelids. He groaned, attempting to roll away from the light, the voices that were fading in and out from above him.

"Anyone... him?"

"No one... found... body."

"Lost... blood... 'fusion."

"...name?"

"Student... Sam."

"Sam?"

 _"What?"_ Sam mumbled bitterly inside his head as a hand gently tapped his face.

 _Gloved hands so close, too close, close enough that he could smell the blood, his_ own _blood._

"No... No more, please..." He hard himself weakly call out as his body began to tremble.

"Sam? Stay with us, you gotta keep fighting, alright?"

He tried fighting already. He tried fighting some damn demon, he tried accessing some damn powers he didn't have, and he tried living a damn normal life, and this was what he gets?

"We just want to help you, Sam."

 _"I'm just trying to help you, Sammy."_

 _The whip cracked against his back again, creating a new gash that overlapped with the others. Sam screamed freely, no longer caring about not giving this thing the satisfaction._

 _"Don't fight it."_

 _Crack. Sam shouted a moan around the gag._

"Don't give up, Sam."

 _"Give in to it, Sam."_

"Open your eyes for us."

 _"Close your eyes and let it in."_

"Sam."

 _"Sammy!"_

Sam's head burned, his back was on fire, his entire leg throbbed with the pain of his broken toe.

Favouring the much softer voice, Sam managed to open his eyes. They attempted to adjust, but everything was hazy.

"That's it, Sam."

 _Sam was crying, much to Raef's delight._

" _That's it, Sam."_

He'd tried hard enough, but he could only take so much. His head shot back, surprisingly hitting something soft, but it wasn't much of a consolation when he was in the midst of convulsing.

"He's seizing."

"Sam, keep your eyes open."

Too... tired... Sam drifted off once more, falling into the blissed and bliss of unconsciousness.

There were no voices in unconsciousness, there was no pain in unconsciousness, there was just- peace.

But there was also no Jess, which was odd, because he could've sworn he was hearing her.

"Sam, baby, look at me. Please."

Memories of Raef were kept at bay at the sound of her voice. It was too soft, too pure to remind him of anything so dark and full of misery.

"J-Jess?" He groaned. God, he was sore.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me, baby. I'm right here. Can you look at me?"

He groaned again, trying to roll his head away.

"Please, Sam."

Jess had always been good at getting her way, and Sam found himself obliging. How he'd missed her beautiful face, but there were tears in her eyes, and he wasn't quite sure why.

"Wh-why're you crying?"

She laughed. What was with all these mixed signals? "Because I'm happy."

Good. Sam liked it when Jess was happy. He gave a little smile.

"Do you know where we are, Sam?"

Wait, they weren't at home? He'd assumed they were home. He moved his eyes around the room to take in his surroundings.

Bare walls. Beeps in the background. The smell of antiseptic. That all added up to one thing.

"Hospital?"

Jess nodded. "Do you know why?"

Sam paused, and nodded, wishing he didn't know.

"Good." She held his hand, and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Wh-what happened, baby?"

Sam was nowhere near ready to come up with a cover story. He was barely even up for breathing. The expanding of his ribs gave him the sensation of his back splitting open all over again.

"I don't want to talk about it." That much wasn't a lie.

Giving another squeeze to his hand, Jess nodded again. "I-I understand..." Her eyes never left him, as though she feared that if they did that Sam would disappear right in front of her. "A-are you in pain?"

 _"You have no idea."_ "A little."

"Where's it hurt?"

Where _doesn't_ it hurt would have been a shorter list, but he simply answered with the pain that was most prominent. "M'back."

"I'll see if I can get the nurses to give you some more painkillers."

"Wait." Sam protested, tightening his grip on her hand. "Stay with me? It-it's really not that bad."

Jess stroked her thumb across his hand in a soothing motion. "Sure, baby."

No words were spoken, but they weren't really needed either. Both Sam and Jess were more than content with finding comfort in the knowledge that they were both okay.

"Jess?" Sam broke the silence.

"Yeah, Sam?"

Did he really want to know the answer? "How-" He swallowed. "How long was I gone?"

"Well..." She chewed her lip, eyes casting down to the floor for the first time. "You were missing for two days."

That didn't fully answer his question, now did it? And it wasn't hard for Sam to pick up on. "How long have I been in the hospital?"

Jess paused, clearly mentally cursing that her boyfriend was so smart. "A week."

Being unconscious for a week was never a good thing, and Sam lowered his head, trying not to think too hard.

"Um..." She stuttered. "They stitched up the wounds on your back. There's a cast on our foot an-and, uh-" She sniffled, clearly pained to see her big, strong man so damaged like this. "Y-your nail's gonna gr-grow back soon-"

"Jess, it's okay." Sam interrupted, trying to spare her the pain of relaying his.

"No it's not, Sam!" She snapped, only to immediately slap her hand over her mouth in apology, and it doubled as muffling her sob.

Sam softened, staying strong for her. "It will be."

Jess simply nodded. "Wh-why would this happen to you?"

 _"Because I'm cursed."_ "I don't know. But we'll get through it together, okay?"

"Y-yeah." She wiped her eyes, offering a genuine smile. "Together."

Figuring it needed to be said, Sam asked, "Jess?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

He smiled. "I love you."

She returned the look. "I love you too."

Up until Sam had met Jess, he hadn't ever really heard those words before. Not to say that Sam wasn't loved, but his father and Dean wouldn't use words to prove how much he meant to them. They proved it every time they threw an arm over his chest to shield him from a monster, or how they'd bitch at him to wear his damn seatbelt. He freaking hunts- _hunted_ monsters, and they cared about road safety. Go figure.

In short, it felt good to say 'I love you' from time to time.

Pulling her closer, Sam gave Jess a kiss, not giving a crap about how much his mouth hurt from being pulled too wide by a bandana for two days, because right now, it was just him and Jess.

And what a damn good feeling it was.

* * *

 **AN:** Okay, I have now edited, but most likely still missed a few things here and there. Thanks to anon reviewer, cammiemorris7. Gives me a smile to see that y'all are enjoying. As a reward, here's a-

 **Sneak Peek:** "With a determined exhale, Sam pulled himself back onto his crutches, and forced himself to limp forward. The strain on his shoulder and back muscles was tremendous, but he was stubborn, and refused to fall again."

Weird to say it, but I might have just a little romance coming up. No smut or nothing, just Sam and Jess being all cute. Will not be main focus of story, no need to worry. I still know squat about love, so. Anyway, drop a review, and I will see y'all soon!


	4. I'm Learning How to Live Life

**AN:** Literally what even is medicalness? Yeah, I know squat about how hospitals actually work so I'm just kinda bs-ing my way through those bits. And I will admit that writing for Jess is really hard considering she was in a whole of two episodes. Nonetheless, hope y'all enjoy the final chapter!

* * *

"Son of a bitch!" Sam cursed as he nearly fell onto his ass.

"Easy, baby." Jess comforted as she aided him in remaining on his feet. Well- foot, considering how the other one of them was in a cast. "The doctor said you're not gonna get it on your first try."

"Screw the doctor. I'm doing it." He huffed, only to murmur an apology when the nurse in the room cleared her throat at the remark.

"Don't strain yourself, Sam." Jess warned.

"I'm not." He protested. "I can handle this." With a determined exhale, Sam pulled himself back onto his crutches, and forced himself to limp forward. The strain on his shoulders and back muscles was almost too much to bear, but he was stubborn, and he refused to fall again.

"There you go, baby." Jess praised, leaving a hand on his shoulder, offering her support.

After a deep breath, Sam requested, "Let go. I can do this."

Jess was hesitant. "Sam, I-"

"Please, Jess. Let me do this."

Praying he wouldn't let her worries become a reality, Jess removed her hand.

"You're doing great, Sam." The nurse, Maria, told him. "You really shouldn't push yourself too hard. You've been through a lot over the past few days, it's okay to take it easy."

"It's not too much." Sam insisted once more, and pulled himself forward, and to everyone's relief, he did so successfully, albeit with a face scrunched up in pain, but the pain wasn't beyond his tolerating abilities.

"Okay." Maria said with a smile. "That's enough for today, Mr. Determined. You've proved your point, but now I've got to make sure you didn't tear any stitches."

Nodding, Sam allowed Jess to help lead him back to his cot, and he was slightly embarrassed to realise that he was a little breathless from the feat.

Jess helped Sam remove his shirt, something she was rather good at before the accident too, and Maria was pleased to discover that his stitches hadn't popped, and the wounds weren't infected either. Considering the days he'd just come back from, today could definitely be called a win.

"You've made some great progress, Sam." Maria commented, and then she turned to Jess, smiling. "You've got a stubborn man on your hands there."

"Oh, believe me, I'm aware." Jess said playfully.

"You keep an eye on him, alright?"

"I'm good at that."

"She is." Sam agreed. "Kinda creeps me out sometimes." He added, grinning.

"Oh shut up, you jerk." Jess elbowed him lightheartedly, purposefully avoiding any area with a cloth wrapped around it.

"You gonna make me?" Sam challenged, not caring that he'd just set himself up for the clichést of the clichés.

Falling into the trap, Jess leaned in, and pressed her lips against his. Luckily for both of them, they were equally content with being a pair of sappy and overly affectionate dorks. One of the perks of being in love.

"Now," Maria started. "Your next appointment's been scheduled, but if you experience any other problems, you come right back here. Got it, Sam?"

"Yes, ma'am." Sam promised.

"Jessica?"

"Yes?" Jess answered.

"You make sure he comes in if he has any issues. Not sure I entirely trust him and his apparent stubborn streak."

"Hey!" Sam protested with a smile.

"She's got you pegged, baby." Jess giggled, and gave him another brief kiss.

"You've been a great patient, Sam, but I'd rather not see you again under these kinds of circumstances, okay? When I see you, it'll be for you to tell me everything's fine, no more trouble from you, alright?"

"Got it. I'll be careful."

"Good choice. Jessica, would you like to help Sam into his wheelchair?" Maria saw Sam's mouth open to argue, but she stopped him. "You leave in the chair, or you don't leave at all." She smiled at his huff, and then his nod. "Again, good choice."

Keeping a steadying hand on his shoulders, the small portion that wasn't injured, Jess eased him into the wheelchair.

"Now," Maria explained. "I'm going to suggest this because it's my job, but I have a feeling that you're going to ignore it. Nonetheless, patients at this stage are usually inclined to purchase a wheelchair for easier transportation, but I'm sure you will insist upon walking. Am I right?"

"I'd disagree, but then I'd be lying." Sam admitted.

"Thought so. Just thought I'd let you know. Really though, Sam, most people in your condition would be in no hurry to leave the hospital, and here you are insisting on checking yourself out."

Scoffing, Sam told her, "I'm not most people."

Maria gave a sigh. "No, I suppose you're not. But- can I ask what's so important out there? Not many college students would be so eager to get back out there."

Sam cast a glance over to Jess. "It's not just school I'd be missing out on." He smiled.

Maria hummed. "Suppose I can't argue with that." She gave a nod, and Jess began to wheel Sam out, and Maria followed closely behind. "I'll say it one last time before you leave, alright? You be careful out there, you hear me?"

One final time, Sam agreed. "I will, Maria."

"That's my boy." Maria escorted them to the car, loaded in Sam's crutches, and waved as the care departed. When the car turned the corner, Maria allowed her eyes to slip back to their normal shade of yellow. "That's my boy…"

* * *

Screw what his father said. Dean wasn't an idiot. And he wasn't as blind of a follower as John liked to believe either.

They'd both heard about the murders at Stanford, but John had remained passive about the matter, ordering Dean to let some other hunter take care of it.

'Sammy left us, so we'll return the favour. He doesn't want anything to do with us, so we're gonna leave him be. It's what he wants, isn't it?'

Damn him for being so damn stubborn. And Sam too! If the kid had had any sense he would've bucked up and called them, and Dean could have made a more decent argument to John, one that he wouldn't' be able to ignore. John may not agree with what Sam did in the slightest, but had Sam asked for help, John would have given it to him.

Apparently, John was so set on the idea of having Sam call them, that he had been contacting other hunters and telling them that someone else had taken on the case, that it was covered.

And that was the last damn straw for Dean.

John had tried to give Dean some B.S. justification for it, but Dean hadn't wanted to hear it. He'd simply walked out the door to go see Sam himself. This time, his father's orders weren't enough to stop him from helping his brother.

For hours on end, Dean heard nothing but the age-old and familiar hum of the Impala's wheels gliding over the asphalt of the open road. That, and the constant ringtone that indicated a call from his father. But Dean didn't want to argue, he didn't want to say where he was going, and he definitely didn't want to hear John's excuses.

This wasn't Dean's first time visiting Stanford. The previous trips his father had known about. But not this one. John could bitch at him for it later, and then they'd get back to hunting. Although, Dean wouldn't mind taking a few solo hunts every now and then. He was twenty-five after all.

By the time Dean was just about to enter Sam's apartment, a hand grabbed his shoulder.

"Hey, man, I know you're curious and everything, but Sam's really not up for visitors or anything, okay?"

It took all Dean had not to punch the guy in the face. Who the hell was he to tell _him_ about Sam? "I'm sorry, who are you exactly?"

"Name's Brady. Friend of Sam's. Who are you?"

Dean's fists clenched. "Name's Dean. Brother of Sam's."

The Brady kid paled. "I-I'm so sorry, man, I-I didn't know."

"Whatever. You said something about Sam not wanting visitors? What's that all about?"

"You-… You don't know?"

The rage and irritation Dean had been feeling retreated in an instant. "Don't know what?" His teeth were grit in an attempt to hide the true emotion he was feeling at that moment; fear.

"He-he got nabbed by that psychopath that killed all those other students. I-I thought you'd know, I-I'm so sorry."

Sam got _kidnapped_ for God's sake, and he didn't tell Dean? What the hell?! "Yeah." Dean scoffed. "I thought I would know too."

Clearly uncomfortable, Brady shifted. "Uh- I think he's having lunch outside the library with Jess if you wanna see him."

"Jess?"

"It-… It's been a while since you've seen Sam, hasn't it?"

"And it's been a while since you've minded your own damn business." Dean snapped. He tugged on his jacket and fixed the collar as he stormed off to find Sam. Why the hell hadn't Sam told him any of this? Did Sam really hate him that much? He headed to the library to find some answers. And possibly kick Sam's ass depending on how hurt the kid was.

A few wrong turns and backtracking later, Dean had finally found the library. He scanned the steps briefly, and he was just about to charge forward when his eyes finally landed on Sam, but then Dean saw some girl's hand, Jess's he assumed, go to Sam's shoulder, and the two of them laughed.

Sam was _happy._

Back when Sam was hunting, Dean would have given anything just to prevent Sam from being a miserable mess, but now- he was honest-to-God happy. And no matter how much Dean wanted to run over there and make sure Sam was okay, ask why he was on crutches, maybe slap him for being such a stubborn little bitch, he just couldn't ruin this moment. Sam deserved better. He always had.

Don't think Dean didn't want to know what happened to Sam, that's simply untrue. Back when they hunted together, Dean wouldn't let Sam get so much as a bruise without knowing exactly how he'd gotten it. But that was because it had always been just the two of them. Now? Now Sammy wasn't alone. And he was happy dammit. Dean knew he had no reason to disrupt such a rare and precious fact. He shot a glance to his baby brother one final time, and then turned to leave, but not before finding that Brady kid and making sure he wouldn't tell Sam that he had ever been here.

If Dean couldn't have a shot at that normal life, which he knew he didn't, he'd just keep hunting, and Sam could keep on living the apple pie-life he'd always wanted. No matter how much it hurt Dean.

* * *

 **AN:** Bittersweet endings are my life now. They bring me joy because it brings everyone else feels. Angst is my new favourite thing. Okay. So-… I am currently working on another fic but… It's slash, guys. Heavy slash. I don't know that I'm ever actually going to publish it, but if I'm gone for a while, it's because I'm working on my own little potentially private piece. If anyone's curious, it'd be Sam/Meg. Since that's such an odd and random ship it's not likely that many people would want to read it anyway so, I just don't know.

Anyway, thanks to everyone and their patience on this story, and I can't wait to write for everyone again! Drop a review if y'all got the time, and until next time, carry on my wayward sons!


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